


Business As Usual

by nschimm



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Age Difference, Boss/Employee Relationship, Cunnilingus, F/M, NSFW, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nschimm/pseuds/nschimm
Summary: You're a college student saving up money for your senior year. The Mystery Shack happened to be looking for another employee, and your new boss was more than happy to hire you for the summer.





	Business As Usual

**Author's Note:**

> this fic takes place after the story's main arc, assuming that the Grunkles are back from sailing the ocean. we're gonna say that Soos and Stan co-manage the Shack while he's in town.

Your last year of college was rapidly approaching, and you needed a summer job. The scholarships you’d applied for weren’t able to cover all of the costs like they had in the years prior, so you had to stay put in your hometown and save up what you could.

Working in The Mystery Shack wasn’t the worst thing in the world. If anything, you enjoyed it more and more as the weeks passed. The tourists were always fun to watch, and your coworkers kept you entertained when work was slow. 

Soos was desperately trying to juggle bags of potato chips in the air when Mr. Mystery himself called you over. You always thought The Shack was strange and fascinating growing up, but within two days of working there, it had lost all of its mystical charms. As did the owner.

He was still in his suit when you entered his office.

“Need anything, Mister Pines?” you asked, standing in the doorway.

“Hey, I’ve told you before, Stan is fine,” he said, turning away from the magazine he was reading.

You grinned a bit. “Alright, if you say so. So, what’s up? What can I help you with,  _ Sta-aaan _ ?”

He laughed at your sing-songy tone, then gestured for you to come forward.

“Shut the door before you sit down.”

Not thinking much of it, you obliged. Shortly afterwards you made your way to the sofa on the side of his office, then perched yourself on the armrest nearest him.

He set down his magazine and tapped it a couple of times with his fingertips.

“I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Oh, am I in trouble? I swear, Wendy was the one that dared me to rearrange some of the displa-”

“What? No, you’re not in trouble at all,” he paused for a moment. “You’ll have to tell me about the displays later, though.”

“Ah. Okay. Thanks, I think?”

Stan smiled and tipped his chair back, looking nonchalantly at the ceiling. He kept fiddling with his thumbs, seemingly trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say.

“Listen,” he started, “you’ve been a good worker here, and I definitely don’t want that to change.”

A smile tickled your lips. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

He nodded in response. “ _ However _ ,” he continued, punctuating his point with a wave of his hand, “I’m going to tell you something that might make you want to leave. And if you do, it would certainly make me sad, but I’d understand.”

You cocked your head slightly. “Mr. Pi- err, Stan, I’m sure that whatever it is, it’ll be fine.”

Once again, he nodded. “I appreciate that, kiddo. But, y’know, just in case you aren’t okay with it, I hope there aren’t any hard feelings.”

He let his words hang in the air for a beat.

“And I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone what I’m about to say.”

That last sentence struck you as a touch odd. Surely he had things that he kept to himself, but you never thought that he’d share any of it with you. Why would he? Stan was your boss. Purely professional relationship. Nevermind the fact that you two joked back and forth during the day, borderline flirting. Nevermind that he would brush up against you even when there was ample space for him to go around. Nevermind that he would chat with you after you’d already clocked out for the day, sometimes keeping you for over an hour.

You gulped. “I think I might know what this is about,” you said. “But I want to hear you say it, just in case I’m wrong.”

He smiled sheepishly and cast his gaze to the ground. So different from the act he put on for his customers.

“Yeah. I, uh…” He sighed, mustering up the courage to spit out what he’d been holding in for quite a while. “I… enjoy your company.”

An unbelieving glance in his direction caused him to backtrack a bit.

“Okay, alright, err--” He stood up and adjusted his tie, then his hat, then his glasses, all in front of a mirror. “I enjoy your company in a way that’s… Well, a little more than the usual boss-employee standard. A little more than the usual _friend_ standard, too.”

You slid off of the sofa’s armrest and onto its cushions.

“Do you now?” you asked, only a slight waver in your voice. You’d have to be stupid not to notice the way he “casually” puffed out his chest when he spoke to you. How he “unintentionally” lifted heavy supplies when he thought you were watching. How you were the only one of his employees he would put his hands on - even if just a tap on the shoulder or a pat on the back.

“Are you  _ interested _ in me, Mr. Mystery?” you asked, slightly exaggerating your voice in a way that made him chuckle.

“Well,” he hesitated for a few seconds. “That’s the thing. The people in this town - they’re old fashioned. And, you have to admit, if… I don’t know, if  _ this _ ,” he gestured back and forth between the two of you, “were to go anywhere, I have a feeling that people would talk.”

You looked at him with mild disbelief. “Stan, you’ve got a reputation that reaches across the globe. I wouldn’t be shocked if there are brothels in Dubai with armed security specifically trained to keep you out. Surely you aren’t  _ actually _ worried about what the people here think?”

He laughed. “No, no, sweetheart, of course not. It’s not me I’m worried about at all. I just don’t want anybody to look at you differently if people suspect that there might be something between us.”

The two of you stared at each other in mild disbelief and embarrassment. 

Stan added, “Well, I mean, only if it’s mutual, of course. I’m not… I don’t want you to feel like you _ have  _ to do anything just because I’m your boss.” 

You shook your head in understanding. “No, no, I get it. Uh, thank you for being honest with me.” You smiled just a bit. “Not that I didn’t think it was coming or anything.”

Once again, he laughed, more heartily this time. 

You spoke again, “I mean, if it’s the townspeople you’re worried about, they certainly don’t have to know.”

He raised an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Is that so?” he asked, taking a few steps closer to you. “And how, exactly, would we keep this little secret hidden?”

You could feel the tips of your ears turning pink. He leaned over you, one hand on the wall above your head, the other resting against his hip. 

“We… Well, we could keep ourselves confined to work hours,” you whispered, too nervous to raise your voice.

He nodded above you.

“And, um, if that’s not enough, we could have little  rendezvous after the shop closes to the public.”

“What should I tell the kids?”

The kids, right. They’ve been staying with him every summer since he and his brother got back from sailing across the ocean.

“You could…” You paused for a moment, racking your brain for ideas. “I guess you could send them on little errands to get them out of the house. They have their licenses by now, yeah?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, but I like your idea.”

Stan leaned forward a bit. You gasped - he was going in for it, and you couldn’t be more excited.

Right as you leaned in to reciprocate his kiss, a loud rapping came from outside the door.

“Yo, Mr. Pines!” called Soos. “There’s a buttload of tourists asking for you!”

He groaned and rolled his eyes, pulling away from you to adjust his clothes again.

“Alright, distract them for a while, Soos.” He called out. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Stan looked himself over in the mirror once more, seemingly unphased by the previous events. You, however, were glued to the couch, entire face bright pink.

He glanced at you through the mirror and laughed. “What, you gettin’ shy on me now?”

You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your head. “N-no, I’m fine. A little excited.”

“Excited, huh?” He grinned and turned around.

“Well- hey, no, I just, you caught me off guard is all,” you managed to sputter out.

He laughed again - loud, hearty, from his stomach. “Whatever you say, toots. How about we try your rendezvous idea after work today?”

You went wide-eyed, smiling ever so slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Where do you want to meet up, then?”

Stan shrugged. “I’ll call you back here right before the work day is over.”

You nodded, a little too enthusiastically. His grin only grew wider. 

He stepped closer, resuming his stance over you. This time he didn’t have to put any work into leaning forward; you pressed your lips onto his with excited tenderness.

Right as you pulled away, you both resumed your silly, dopey smiles. You couldn’t help but giggle. His stubble was rough, but felt nice against you.

He sighed, then straightened himself out. “Okay then. Take your time to collect yourself, then jump back to work until I call you again.”

Another nod, equally enthusiastic. “Can’t wait.”

-

Those last few hours seemed to drag on forever. Wendy had pestered you about what took so long, and when you locked eyes with your boss, all you could say was something about a meeting. A meeting to discuss… finances. Wendy looked at you in disbelief for a second, then shrugged it off.

“If you say so, man.”

You let out a long sigh.

Reshelve, reshelve, clean up some kid’s mess, reshelve, dust some of the displays, cover the register while Wendy takes a break, reshelve some more. It trudged on for what seemed like an eternity. Whenever Stan popped into the gift shop, you had to try painfully hard not to act strange.

Finally, closing time was drawing near. Wendy helped clean the shelves while you swept up around the shop. Right as you bent over to gather the debris into the dustpan, Stan stuck his head around the corner.

“Hey, do you think we could continue that meeting from earlier?” he asked.

You turned a tiny bit pink.

“Of course! Let me finish up with this, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

You were using your customer service voice on him, desperately trying to save face in front of Wendy.

She turned towards you as you were emptying the dustpan into the trash, after Stan had retreated back into his office.

“Is it just me, or is Stan acting weirder than usual lately?”

Your insides churned. “What do you mean?” You asked, refusing to make direct eye contact.

Wendy shrugged. “I dunno. It just seems like he’s… cockier than usual today. He’s got this old man attitude. Like, a tiny bit of swagger in his step. It’s weird.”

The best way to keep your secret was to flip it onto someone else, you thought.

“Oddly attentive to Mr. Pines, aren’t you?” You flicked your eyebrows up at her, trying your damnedest to imply that  _ she _ might be the one staring at him too often, not you.

She immediately let out a half-laugh, half-groan.

“Ew, absolutely not. He’s, like, a thousand years old. And I work for him, man. That’s weird.”

You shrugged and laughed it off. “I dunno, Wendy. Some people are in to that kind of stuff.”

She laugh-groaned again, then waved her hand dismissively.

“Alright, forget it,” she said. “I was just making an observation.”

A sigh left your throat. “Well, I shouldn’t keep him waiting for too long. Can you finish up here? Or do you need some help?”

“I think I can handle it. Thanks.”

You smiled and parted ways. It pained you to step slowly. You didn’t want to look too excited to talk to your thousand year old boss.

You knocked quietly on his door, then stepped inside.

He was sitting casually on the couch, tie undone, shoes thrown haphazardly onto the floor.

“Took you long enough. C’mere, take a seat.”

Obediently, without so much as a second thought, you closed the door and placed yourself next to him on the couch.

He grinned lopsidedly at you, putting his words together before speaking.

“Y’know, that little smooch was just what I needed to get me through the end of the day.”

You giggled at the thought. “Good, I’m glad.”

Stan nodded appreciatively. “I’m just plain exhausted now, though. Those tourists really took it out of me.” He shot you a wry smile. “Looks like I’ll need a bit more of a pick-me-up.”

You grinned and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek. Even though you knew he was trying to put on some air of seduction, you wouldn’t let him escape from the silly old man you knew he was.

“Argh- hey, okay, I get it!” He grumbled, carefully pushing you away. “Alright, we can take it slow, if that’s what you want.”

A smug expression plagued you as you began undoing the top buttons of his shirt. “That’s not what I said at all.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his skull.

You continued, “I can just tell the difference between you being genuine and you putting on a show. No used-car-salesman tones with me, ya hear? None of that old school, “Oh, how am I going to pay for this?” porn acting.”

He smiled slightly, brushing your hands off of his shirt. “Alright,” he said. “Fine. What are you after, then?”

“Just you, Stan.” A delicate expression took over his face as you said this, his muscles relaxing. “No Mr. Mystery, no Mr. Pines, just regular ol’ Stanley.”

He nodded, but the comedic opportunity was too great for him to pass up.

“Alright, if you say so,” he said, immediately letting out a massive belch.

“Ugh, god!” you yelled, punching him lightly on the chest. “Not that much Stanley. Like, just a tiny bit less than that. Christ, way to ruin a moment.”

His laughter echoed around the room. As gross as that was, you loved when he made himself laugh.

You fanned the air out with your hands. He wiped a stray tear from his eyes, a few lingering giggles shaking his stomach.

“Jesus. Take off that stupid girdle while you’re at it.” you mumbled.

“What, you want the gut?” he asked, adjusting his glasses back into place.

You shrugged. “Like I was  _ trying _ to say, before you had to be  _ nasty _ , I want your authentic self.”

He looked like he was going to burp again, so you covered his mouth with your hands.

“Not that authentic.”

Stan swatted your hands away. “I wasn’t, geez. Would’ve been hilarious - again - but I wasn’t.”

You sighed in mild frustration, then patted him a few times on the cheek.

“C’mon. I’m trying to have a genuine human connection with you. You’re the one that’s, like, desperately in love with me or something.”

“I never said that,” he grumbled, sliding off his suit jacket. “I just like to look at ya, that’s all.”

You raised your eyebrows in doubt.

He looked off to the side. “Okay, and talk to.” He tossed his tie onto the carpet near his shoes, along with his jacket.

Another eyebrow raise from you.

A light grumble escaped his chest. “And spend time with, I  _ guess _ .” His shirt joined his other clothes on the floor.

You couldn’t help but snicker a little bit at the sight of his girdle. So old-fashioned. It reminded you vaguely of a corset from the Victorian era.

“Listen, are you gonna help me out of this thing or just sit and stare?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.”

He turned around. It even laced up in the back.

“Geez, how do you get this on in the mornings?” you asked.

“What do you think Soos has to come in so early for?”

A laugh escaped you - picturing poor Soos trying to tie the intricate laces together with his chubby little hands absolutely killed you.

“What? What’s so funny?” Stan demanded, glancing over his shoulder.

You wiped your face, leaning forward to untie the ribbon.

“Nothing,” you sniffed, still on the verge of laughter. “Nothing. Just a funny mental image.”

Soos’s handiwork turned out to be excellent. You struggled with the knot at its base for longer than you cared to admit, eventually loosening the girdle and letting him slide out of it.

He grunted and stretched, popping his back in several places as he did so.

You were slightly enamoured with the ridges that it left in his skin. Imprints of fabric that he used to project an image onto others, one that he found more professional.

But you didn’t want professional. You wanted raw, ugly, beautiful; the best and worst of him at the same time.

Stan looked down at you crankily.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You snapped out of your apparent trance. “Sorry! I was just, uh, appreciating what you put yourself through during the day in order to appear a certain way towards customers.”

“Nice save,” he grumbled, plopping back down next to you. “It’s fine, I know what I look like.”

“Oh, please. Don’t act all self conscious on me now.”

He shrugged and turned away, arms tactfully covering his stomach.

_ Oh my god, he’s genuinely embarrassed about his figure _ , you thought, mouth slightly ajar.

“Stanley, look at me.”

He avoided eye contact for as long as he could, eventually glancing at you for a moment.

“Hey,” you said, more assertively this time. “Look at me. All the way.”

Finally, he did, still a tiny bit embarrassed.

“What’s the deal, man?” you asked, placing an arm around his shoulders as you did so.

Stan grumbled, “I normally don’t care. It’s just, I haven’t, uh… I dunno, done anything like this in a while. Feels weird and new again.”

You scoffed, giving him a rough pat.

“Please, a lady killer like you? C’mon, when  _ exactly _ was the last time you got laid?”

“You can’t be serious.”

You looked him in the eyes. “I’m only half-joking. I’m also genuinely curious.”

He furrowed his brows in thought. He began counting on his fingers, then recounting.

“Well, I was out with my brother for… I dunno, maybe two years? And we got back only a few months ago. So, no action that whole time. Before that, there was a little thing with Lazy Susan, but never anything sexual.” He shuddered at the thought.

“Be nice,” you reminded him, snickering at the thought of them on an awkward date.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Before her…” he grimaced, trying to go further back. “I think there was a lady that visited The Shack a long while ago, so probably her. Don’t remember her name. Don’t even really remember what she looked like, if I’m being honest. Only remember a pretty blue dress.”

You nodded slowly. “So, what, five years?”

“Five years, minimum. Maybe even more.” He laughed without humor, staring at his reflection from across the room. “Man, I’m old. I don’t even know if anything works down there anymore.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring at your reflections. 

“I mean, there’s only one way to find out.” you offered. 

He laughed dryly, raising an arm to scratch the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” he mumbled, still seeming a little bit down.

Your brows knit together. It wasn’t like him to be upset over something so trivial. Besides, you actually  _ loved _ his stomach. You liked how it accented his broad shoulders, which seemed to have only gotten broader since he’d been out at sea. 

Without warning, driven only by the desire to prove him wrong, you straddled his lap. He snapped out of it almost instantly, still a touch confused.

“Hey, what’re you up to there?”

Rather than answering, you kissed him, long and slow. He let out a slight mumble - almost a moan, but not quite - and gave in to your touch. 

You ran your fingertips through his hair, silver and pleasantly thick. He lucked out genetically. Pushing sixty-five and a full head of hair? Something like a miracle, and one you planned to enjoy thoroughly. 

A little nibble on your bottom lip caught you slightly off guard, but you didn’t mind. You only grinned against him, giving his hair a gentle tug.

He made a noise. You weren’t quite sure if you could characterise it as a moan, per say, more like an engine stalling. A sort of shaky grunt. You couldn’t help but giggle just a touch.

“What?” he grumbled against you. “These gears haven’t turned in a while. Gimme a minute to get used to it.”

You nodded and resumed the slow, easy pace you’d started at, this time running your hands across his shoulders and back. Sure they were hairy, but the muscles that hid underneath were pleasant to touch. 

For just a moment, you pulled away.

“Did you play football?” you asked him.

Stan hesitated. “When I was young, yeah. Why?”

You thought of the quarterback you dated briefly in highschool and smiled.

“Oh, no reason,” you teased, giving his arms a gentle squeeze. “I can just kind of tell.”

He puffed out his chest, revelling in the compliment.

“I was pretty great at it too, y’know.” The most obnoxious grin took place on his lips. “Star of the show. Even the cheerleaders were too nervous to talk to me.”

“That may have been for a different reason.”

His chest didn’t deflate, but a scowl replaced his grin. “Hey now, what’s with all this talking, anyways? You know this isn’t a  _ real _ meeting, right?”

You patted the top of his stomach like it was a pair of bongos.

“There you are. I was worried you were going to be mopey for the rest of this,” you cleared your throat for effect, “ _ meeting _ .”

Before he could get his snarky response in, you continued, “All it took was a compliment to get your ego boosted.”

His jaw dropped slightly.

“Why you little--”

He cut himself off by kissing you roughly, grabbing your waist.

Not only had the cogs started turning, it seemed like they were going at full speed like they used to. He nipped and sucked along your neck, one hand holding fast against your waist and the other fondling you under your shirt.

Little whimpers escaped you, primarily out of surprise. It wasn’t that you didn’t want it - quite the contrary, you’d fantasize about it every now and then when work was particularly slow - it was the sudden shift in gears that caught you off guard. One minute self conscious about his body, the next trying to explore yours to its full capacity. The hand under your shirt toyed at your breast, rubbing a calloused thumb against your nipple.

You shuddered. Stan smiled and bit your collarbone ever so lightly, sliding his other hand down your back. He pinched your ass playfully, making you laugh for a moment, before he pulled your shirt off of you.

It was hot out, so you’d worn a tank top and high-waisted shorts. Easy to put on, and wouldn’t you know it, easy to take off as well.

“Hey-!” you halfheartedly protested, pulling his hair.

“What, you want to keep it on?”

He looked genuine, like he didn’t want to make you too uncomfortable. This took you aback, just for a second.

“You’re so demanding at work, but such a softy behind closed doors,” you said, mostly to yourself.

“Well, I mean,” he scanned his brain for excuses. “If this goes poorly, you could twist the story and I’d have a lawsuit on my hands.”

“It would be far from the first one, Mr. Mystery.”

Stan laughed and shook his head. “Okay, you got me there. Don’t go telling anyone about this though, ya hear? I certainly don’t want anyone to know that I’m, quote-unquote,  _ nice _ to people.” 

“Especially when you’re sleeping with them, right?”

Yet another scowl. “Yeah, especially when I’m sleeping with them.”

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, long and slow, just like before. He melted, placing his hands against your bare hips.

After a while of sitting on his lap, you noticed that things most certainly  _ did _ still work down there. As you shifted your legs against him, you felt a solid mass growing even more solid by the second, and with every rub against it, Stan drew a sharp breath inward.

He pulled away with a slight gasp.

“Take your shorts off.”

You blushed and nodded, the two of you moving around until you were in your underwear, lying with your back against the couch. He kneeled tentatively at your feet, both hands delicately placed between your knees.

“Listen,” he started, voice low and gravelly. “Like we talked about earlier, I haven’t done anything like this in a while.”

You rolled your eyes and nodded. “Pines, I’m sure you’ll be  _ fine _ -”

“No, no.” He paused after interrupting you. “It’s not that I think this part won’t be. It’s just that, last time I did this, the lady had a hard time walking afterwards.”

Your face dropped slightly.

“So,” he continued, each word placed with importance, “I want to let you know in advance that this tongue is silver in more ways than one.”

It took all the restraint you had not to kick him in the chest for his arrogance.

“What _ ever _ , Stan.” you groaned. “So far you’ve barked way more than you’ve bitten, so you better be right about this.”

He shrugged and gently shifted your legs apart.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that, he slid your panties to the side and dove in.

“ _ Oh. _ ” you said, sudden wave of understanding washing over you.

You hated to admit it, but he was right. He started off slow, gently rolling his tongue along your slit, taking his sweet time to build tension in you. He used the full width of it, leaving no part of you uncovered - but not giving any particular attention to your clit, simply grazing over it, teasing, driving you mad. 

Your thighs twitched with each lap of his tongue. You gasped and whimpered, clamping a hand over your mouth to try and keep your volume down.

“Mm-mm.” He mumbled. Stan pulled away from you for moment, prying your hand away from your mouth. “I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

You could’ve died then and there without a regret in the world.

Instead, you nodded weakly, a little smile playing at the corner of your lips. “A-are you sure?”

He nodded. “Definitely worth all the trouble we could get in to.”

With your newly free hand, you pushed him back down, tired of talking.

A chuckle escaped his lips before he plunged himself back in, starting over, his pace even slower.

“Oh, come  _ on _ , Stan,” you whined, rocking against him. “You’re driving me crazy.”

He groaned in response, the vibration sending a shiver up your spine. He gradually resumed his previous pace, paying more attention to your clit this time, forcing little moans out of you.

You couldn’t help whimper out his name a few times, especially when he dipped his tongue into your entrance ever so slightly, offering a gentle pulsing sensation.

“Y-you can use your f-f-fingers if you want.”

His lips curled slightly against you, but he didn’t stop working with his mouth. Slowly, slowly, he slid one of his hands towards your crotch, gently pressing against your opening.

It took almost no effort for his middle finger to slide into you - that’s how ready you were. And that was all it took to make you keel in delight, crying out for more. He moved his finger in time with his tongue, adding another one right along side it.

You were rocking in his hands when you felt it start. The slow, budding sensation in your spine, tickling its way upwards until it encompassed your whole body, bucking and writhing against him, working yourself to near exhaustion. You tried to fight it. You didn’t want it to end. But your body - and Stan, for that matter - had other plans.

He worked you until you were like soft putty in his hands, delicately slowing down after you’d reached your peak, carefully removing his fingers from you with a wet pop.

Your breath came out hitched and ragged. Your legs were still shaking. He gave you one final, wide lick before parting from your warmth, patting your crotch gingerly.

“So, I still got it?” he asked.

All you could do was give him a shaky thumbs up, still too elated to speak.

His laugh was like music to your ears. He adjusted himself, unzipping his pants and weaseling out of them.

“So, uh, how’re we doing this?” he asked, gesturing vaguely.

“You mean position wise?”

He nodded and ran a hand lazily over your calf.

You sighed and thought for a moment. “How about missionary, nice and simple?”

Another nod from him. “Sounds good to me. Are you on birth control or somethin’?”

“Wow, so tactful. Yes, I am.”

He smirked. “No need to wrap it, then?” Stan asked.

You placed a foot on his chest as he leaned forward, stopping him in his tracks.

“Last time you were tested?”

He looked deeply offended. “What, you think I’ve got diseases or something?”

“I dunno, Stan. But you like to brag about your conquests, so I feel like the question should at least be asked.”

A heavy sigh escaped him.

“Some time after the last lady, but before Susan. So, again, no action.”

“Perfect. Mine was last month, and no action since then either.”

He scoffed, dragging you closer to him by your hips. You yelped in response, playfully swatting at his chest.

“Such a brute,” you mumbled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“As if you weren’t enjoying it a few minutes ago.”

No response from you, just a half-teasing glare and a hand down his boxer shorts.

A quick gasp out of him. He was so warm, so thick in your palm that you shivered at the thought of it in other places.

You worked it back up to its initial height, enjoying the view of Mr. Pines’ hooded eyes and strained breathing, the way his mouth twitched upwards when you tugged delicately, the rugged sounds he made when you touched him just right.

“C’mon, boss, we don’t have all day.”

And just like that he was on top of you, laughing at your little remark. He spread you wide with his fingers and slowly pushed his way inside, the girth of his cock almost too much to bear. A noise left your mouth - moan? squeal? whine? It was hard to tell - as he finally lodged himself fully inside, your pelvis resting at the very base of his groin. 

He wasn’t exactly quiet, either. Rather than incomprehensible noises, he wouldn’t stop talking, murmuring the filthiest things into your ear. You could barely parse them together as he slowly pulled out, then shovelled himself back in, letting a grunt escape him.

“God, you feel better than I could’ve imagined,” he said - that one you were able to decipher perfectly.

You planted your lips onto his with the intent to draw him further, to get him to work more quickly. 

“Come on, Gramps, like you mean it.”

He pinched your side playfully, chastising you for being so demanding.

Stan rotated his hips, delicately sliding his way in and out, teasing you by taking his time. You whimpered, holding fast to his arms, no doubt leaving claw marks along his skin. He hummed and closed his eyes. You noticed the corners of his lips turn upwards blissfully as he sighed and groaned into you, as he made you whine and shake.

You pulled him in closer, wrapping your arms around his back, aching to feel him in his entirety. He leaned over you with a slight chuckle, cupping the back of your head with one hand and fondling your breast with the other, all while sucking and nibbling at your throat. 

He mumbled in your ear deliciously, “You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting this.” It made you squeak shyly, then let out a soft moan as he picked up the pace, pushing himself into you more rapidly, with intent, knowing  _ exactly _ what he was doing. The familiar warm sensation of orgasm ebbed at you as he slid against your g-spot, faster and faster, a buildup of sweat forming between you. You dug your nails into his back, enjoying the feeling of his muscles moving under his skin, listening intently to each little noise he made.

And boy, did he make noises. More specifically half assed dirty talk, starting a sentence and trailing off towards the end, distracted by how you moved your hips in time with his, how you bit his earlobe gently, how you wrapped your legs around his lower back.

That was what did it. He gasped once you shifted your position, drilling into you with all that he had.

His rhythm began to falter. You could hear it in his breathing, too, the way it hitched and sputtered out, that he was getting close. You intentionally tightened the muscles of your cunt, tugging on him as he slipped over the edge with one of the best noises you’d ever heard.

“ _ Pines _ , you didn’t pull out!”

He laughed, dropping all of his weight on top of you. You wheezed - you loved the gut, but you thought you might suffocate if he stayed there for too long.

Frantic pats on the shoulder signaled your warning to him, and he groaned as he shifted a tiny bit of his weight off of you. He slipped his underwear back on, then made his way towards his desk, popping his back as he did so.

He returned with a box of tissues to wipe you down.

“Might want to use the bathroom before you head out,” he said, sitting down next to you.

“Wow. Kicking me out just like that, huh?” You patted yourself with tissues.

Stan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, toots. I kind of am. Don’t want to keep you for much longer.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Whatever, Pines. Thanks for the good lay.”

An air of cockiness consumed him. “So it  _ was _ good, then?”

“I mean… Yeah,” you mumbled shyly. “Was it okay for you?”

He leaned in, murmuring in your ear, “You have no idea.”

Rapidly turning pink, you shoved him away. A playful expression made itself at home on your face.

“Good enough to get a raise?”

His laugh was full and boisterous in your ears. “Oh, absolutely not. Nice try though.”

Once you were fairly sure you’d wiped all of his seed off of you, the awkward fumbling for your clothes began. Shorts over there, shirt across the room - but where was your underwear?

“Stan, do you know where my pantie-”

He had them in his hand, sniffing delicately, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“God, you’re such a creep,” you said, snatching your underwear from him.

You slid your underwear and shorts on, but before you could put on your shirt, he stepped forward and kissed you.

A sweet gesture, but your chest was getting chilly from the air conditioning in his office.

“Hang on, Mr. Pines, let me put on my tank top.”

Stan pinched your ear. “I told you, my first name is  _ fine _ . Besides, this is a cute look.”

You glanced in the mirror behind you and smiled. “I guess, if you want me to get written up for indecent exposure.”

“The cops would be too happy with the show to care.”

You swatted his hands away, tugged on your shirt, and hugged him close.

“You’re sweet,” you told him. 

He sighed. “Thanks, hon.”

“Of course.”

You felt his chest rise and fall under your cheek as he laughed softly. He was warm to the touch, especially when he gave in and wrapped his arms around you in a full embrace.

A rapid knocking at the door.

Stan stood up straighter. “Yeah, what is it?”

Ford opened the door without looking up from a device in his hand.

“Stanley, I need your help with-- Oh. Oh, my. Excuse me.”

All three of you were too terrified to move.

“Ford, it’s not what it looks like,” Stan tried to assure him. He didn’t seem to be buying it; his gaze glued to the floor as he inched out, painfully avoiding eye contact.

“No, no, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” he said, hand back on the door handle. “I think I can handle this one myself for a while. Just, uh, finish up whatever it is you’re doing in here. I’ll be in the backyard.” He shut the door behind him, and the two of you heard him shuffle away awkwardly.

You and Stan stood there, petrified.

“Well,” you started, “no more stress about keeping it a secret.”

Stan buried his head in your hair out of pure embarrassment.

“I know he’s seen me do worse things, but still,” he groaned. “It’s terrible every time.”

“You’d think he would learn to wait after knocking.”

Stan laughed a little bit, then moved to put on his clothes as well.

“At least we weren’t naked,” you offered as he tugged his pants over his striped boxers.

“Yeah, I guess. Still, I’ll have to talk to him about it. I guess it’s between the  _ three _ of us now.”

You sighed and stretched your arms. “He’s pretty tight-lipped though, right?”

“Oh, for sure. I guess if anyone was going to walk in on us, I’d rather it be him. As weird as that sounds.” He tugged on his shirt, buttoning it about halfway, leaving the top portion open. 

You took few steps towards him and placed a hand on his chest, staring at his face for a long moment.

He smiled down at you and stole a kiss, then began to usher you out.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked.

“Sheesh, I don’t think so. Gotta let the engines cool off before they get started again. Besides, that could look suspicious.”

You grumbled, stopping in front of the still-closed door.

“A few days, then? Maybe Thursday?”

He cocked an eyebrow, staring down at you. “Awfully desperate already, huh?”

A gentle push on his arm was enough to get him to clam up for a moment.

“I just know actually working for you after this is gonna be hell. I never know when you’re gonna spring next.”

“Isn’t that the fun part?”

You blushed. “I guess it could be.”

He pinched your ass as you weaseled out of his office. You dipped into the restroom - no sense in risking a UTI - and made your way to your car. That you parked in the back. Where Ford would be waiting for Stan. You grimaced at the thought, sucking in a breath before you pushed lightly against the back door of the Shack.

Even though you tried to sneak out, the door creaked, alerting Ford. He turned away shyly, staring down at nothing.

You sighed and scratched the back of your neck.

“Ford,” you murmured. 

He nodded in response, giving you a halfhearted wave.

That just wouldn’t do. You made your way over to him, hands propped on your hips.

“Okay, come on. You saw what you saw. We’re all adults here. No need to be bashful.”

He laughed lightly, then shifted his gaze upwards, still refusing to look directly at you.

“Sorry about that.” he finally stated plainly. “It’s not like this is the first time something of that nature has happened, I assure you, and that certainly wasn’t the worst thing I’ve seen him doing.”

You nodded slowly. “It’s alright, Stanford. Just… wait until he says you can come in from now on, okay?”

He looked taken aback. “This is going to be an ongoing occurrence?”

You blushed, hard. “I mean - I hope so!”

“You know we’re brothers, right?” Ford asked, wincing slightly. “I don’t need to hear about whatever  _ sexcapades _ you two are planning.”

“Right, right. Sorry. Listen, don’t tell anybody about this, okay? Stan is nervous about it getting out, and I certainly don’t want people looking at either of us in a negative light.”

He nodded. “Trust me, I’m going to try as hard as I can to forget about it either way. File that little incident back with all of the other times I’ve walked in on him doing unsavory things.”

Curiosity ebbed at you.

“Like what? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “God, I try not to think about it. Multiple, err, sexual partners. Sometimes multiple at the same time. Drugs. Lots of drugs, actually. We’re both shocked he’s still alive. Drinking like there’s no tomorrow. What’s the word I’m looking for without being crass… Dancers? Of the exotic nature?”

You held up a hand, signaling for him to stop.

“Gotcha, thanks. Sorry all that’s rattling around in your head. I understand why you’d want to forget about it.” 

He chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “I suppose this little mishap wasn’t so bad after all, in retrospect.”

You laughed, then gave him a pat on the arm.

“Thanks, Ford. I can trust you not to go around gossiping?”

He smiled. “Of course. Go on and head home now, it’s getting late.”

You grinned back at him. “See you around, man.”

He waved as you pulled out of the gravel parking space. Your drive home was pleasant and smooth. When your head hit the pillow that night, you fell asleep before someone could say, “Mister Mystery”.

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to guilty-pleasures-abound for all of her amazing grunkle fics! bonus points for the first person who can tell me which one i referenced in the comment section


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